


The Lost Prince

by N_Jadaka



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No White Walkers, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Dothraki Jon, F/F, F/M, Jon was raised in Essos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26014786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N_Jadaka/pseuds/N_Jadaka
Summary: Robert's Rebellion failed, and for the past 17 years Rhaegar Targaryen has ruled as King of the Seven Kingdoms. While the kingdoms have been at a relative peace since the war's end there have been slight rumblings of discontent from certain unsatisfied lords. Add to that the loss of Princess Lyanna and their son and with every passing day the crown weighs heavier on the Kings head.
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targeryen/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Jon Snow/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia)
Comments: 122
Kudos: 279





	1. A Prince's Return

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic so while I would appreciate comments and constructive criticism don't be a dick. I've had the idea for this story for a loooong time and I had to finally write it down.

_**Peace has reigned for seventeen years throughout the seven kingdoms, though perhaps more fragile than some realize. It has been seventeen years since the rebellion, seventeen years since the country was nearly torn asunder. Half the country had risen in rebellion against the mad king after the abduction of Lyanna Stark and subsequent murder of Lord Rickard and his son and heir. Led by the Lords Eddard Stark, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully the bulk of the rebel army marched south where they would be joined by the Baratheon forces, with the intent to unseat King Aerys and bring about an end to the Targaryen dynasty. Having prevailed in Gulltown and Summerhall, it was not until they reached Ashford that any of the rebels would taste defeat, set upon by loyalists from the Reach. However the Lord of Storm’s End managed to escape with the bulk of his forces and made north to join with the rest of his army. With the rebels at their full might the Targaryen army would again be defeated in Stoney Sept at the Battle of the Bells and forced to retreat. Emboldened by their victories the Baratheon host marched north to meet the army led by Prince Rhaegar in hopes of slaying the prince and thus bring about a turning point in the war, the two armies would eventually clash at the Trident, where the rebel forces would be broken. When the battle began in earnest Robert Baratheon's strength was terrible to behold and before the day was done two Kingsguard would be slain by his hammer, Ser Jonothor Darry and Prince Lewyn Martell. The battle was long, the bloodshed terrible, thousands lost their lives before The Young Stag and The Last Dragon came face to face. The duel that followed would be sung about for generations to come, both said to have fought with ferocity and fury unmatched, sword and hammer both crying for blood. Some say it was the Prince's love for his lady Lyanna that drove him to victory, for as he knelt badly wounded and seemingly defeated, in a surge of strength Rhaegar Targaryen caught the haft of his foes hammer as it came down on him and thrust his blade deep into the Lord's belly. As Robert Baratheon stood frozen, his hammer falling to the ground, the Dragon Prince rose drawing his blade from his foe and spoke to the Stag. It is not known what words passed between the two warriors on that field, the battle seemingly ground to a halt around them, only that it ended with the removal of the Usurper's head. When the rebels saw their Lord fall they became demoralized, many either fleeing or throwing down their arms, while others pledged their loyalty to the Prince and knelt, and with that the Targaryen army stood victorious.**_

_**In the aftermath of the battle as the crown prince was tended to by maesters the remaining rebel commanders were brought before him to swear fealty, but while the Lords Tully and Arryn had sworn themselves to the crown The Lord of Winterfell refused, vowing he would never bow to the man who had kidnapped and raped his sister. It was only then that he learned the truth. Prince Rhaegar told them all the truth of Harrenhal and the Knight of the Laughing Tree, of how he had discovered it was Lyanna Stark beneath the armor and of how he had promised to keep her secret, of how he had fallen in love with the young she wolf, and she him. He told Lord Stark of how they had run off together and married in a secret ceremony, of how she had been with child when he left to lead his army and how even now she was safely in Dorne awaiting his return. Lastly he told Lord Stark of how before the Rebellion, even before Harrenhal, he had been quietly planning to overthrow his father's rule and assume the mantle of King himself in hopes of mending the rifts that had begun to form between the kingdoms, knowing that King Aerys’ madness had grown beyond control. In that tent the Dragon Prince swore to the Wolf of Winterfell he would right the wrongs done to the House of Stark, that he would see his sister again. And so with a reconciliation between the dragon and the wolf they set off on the following day with a regiment of trusted men, though their wounds were still fresh and their bodies weary, and rode hard for Dorne. However unbeknownst to the good-brothers they rode toward yet another tragedy, for when they arrived at the Tower of Joy it was to find Princess Lyanna without child and deathly ill, she had given birth just a day past, to a healthy baby boy but as no news had reached her of the Tridents outcome she had to assume the worst. Believing her husband dead and knowing what fate would befall their son should Robert find him she had given her child into the care of Ser’s Oswell Whent and Gerold Hightower and ordered them to take their prince to safety across the Narrow Sea, to teach him how to be a good man and a worthy King. It is said that the Seven themselves would have wept to see the prince as he held his she wolf in her deathbed, so great was their love and so terrible his heartache. That night the Warden of the North and the Prince of Dragonstone held a vigil, mourning all that this war had stripped from them. On the following day Lord Stark asked his prince for leave to return to Winterfell with his sister, so she may be given a proper burial, Rhaegar gave his consent, desperately wishing to accompany him, to be with his love one last time, but knowing in his heart what had to be done. With a solemn farewell Edward Stark and his ensemble rode north, leaving the prince to do what he must, however before he rode to the capital the prince tasked his friend, Ser Arthur Dayne, with finding his sworn brothers and returning them to King's Landing, with returning his son to him.** _

_**Rhaegar and his men rode hard, unsure what awaited them at the Red Keep, but knowing that things would never be the same once they reached their destination. Their party arrived at the capital within a fortnight, the common folk cheering as they rode through the gates, for their prince had returned. When they reached the Red Keep the Prince dismounted and strode towards the Iron Throne amidst cheers and praise from the court, as he neared the Mad King ordered his pyromancer to prepare for an execution, that traitors would be burned this day, then stood to greet his son. The court fell quiet then, the King proclaiming before all that his son was a true dragon and together they would bring fire and blood to all who had risen against the crown. Aerys descended the steps from the throne and, with a radiant smile upon his face embraced his son, and for a fleeting moment he looked for all the world like his younger self. What words were exchanged between father and son are unknown, those who were present say the prince whispered in his father's ear, a single tear rolling down his cheek, before plunging a dagger into the king's side and lowering his lifeless body to the floor. Rhaegar ascended the steps of the throne, standing tall above the court and made a promise before the realm, to bring together those kingdoms that been torn asunder by war and hate, to heal the wounds inflicted by the king's madness, to make right the wrongs done by the crown. In answer to this promise the assembled lords and ladies knelt in fealty, for none would mourn the death of the Mad King.** _

_**So began the reign of Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name. For a moon's turn the new king worked to repair the damage done to the realm, starting with its capital, appointing alchemists and pyromancers to dispose of the caches of wildfire Aerys had hidden, sending ravens too every corner of Westeros informing the lords of recent events and revealing the truth behind the rebellion. The King then sent for his brother and newborn sister to return to King's Landing, no longer restrained by fear of their father’s cruelty. It would be another fortnight before Ser Arthur Dayne would return to the Red Keep, but when he knelt before Rhaegar he was without his sworn brothers and bereft of a prince, for he brought with him only more tragedy. After being dispatched from the Tower of Joy Gerold Hightower and Oswell Whent had traveled in absolute secrecy, riding east to the Sea of Dorne where, under the guise of lowley merchants, they boarded a ship bound for the Free Cities of Essos believing their prince would be safe there. However whilst preparing to set sail in pursuit of his fellow Kingsguard Ser Arthur had learned the terrible truth. Reports varied but most believe that the ship bearing King Rhaegar's son was less than a days journey from Pentos when the vessel was beset by the worst storm in living memory, no wreckage of the ship was ever found and all those on board are believed to have perished on the storm tossed sea including the King's beloved son, Prince Jaehaerys. For seven days the King locked himself away from the world, remaining in his chambers and refusing all company, eating nothing and barely sleeping, mourning the loss of the son he never knew, the son he would never know. Those closest to him believe a part of Rhaegar died with his son, though he did his best to hide it he was distant, reserved in a way he hadn't been before. Every year when the prince's nameday approaches the king becomes more withdrawn, often leaving his small council to resolve matters in his stead, with only a few weeks until what would have been his son's seventeenth nameday the king grieves as he always does for his lost prince, dreaming of his son’s return. For a Targaryen alone in this world is a terrible thing.** _

The King rested his head in his hands, breathing deeply in an attempt to clear his mind after hearing yet another complaint about the Gold Cloaks from the citizens of King’s Landing. While he appreciated the importance of listening to the woes of his people it was moments like these when he wished he had simply abdicated this responsibility to his small council, or perhaps even his Hand, Oberyn had a way with the common people all the other lords and ladies of the capital seemingly lacked. His head was abuzz with grievances ranging from the state of the sewers to the price of wheat coming in from The Reach, and there were still dozens of commoners vying for the ears of the royal family.

_“And all the while I can think of little else but the seventh person who should be sat with us.”_

With every passing day it seemed as though the crown weighed more heavily upon his brow. Peace may have reigned for near two decades but it had by no means been an easy task to keep it. Those early days had been fraught with anger and bickering from those who had risen up in rebellion, as well as bitterness from those who felt they were _unfairly_ _treated_ after the war's end. He still remembered with perfect clarity the day the Lord of the Rock rode into Kings Landing asking for an audience with the king. It was the first day he’d left his chambers and his grief had still been fresh. 

_Tywin Lannister had strode into the throne room exuding confidence and regality, dressed resplendently in his crimson and gold doublet, perfectly tailored black breeches, and matching gloves and boots made of fine brown leather. With that proud lion displayed prominently across his chest he looked every bit the Warden of the West and lord of the wealthiest house in the kingdoms. When he reached the dias of the Iron Throne he bowed briefly and then addressed Rhaegar._

_“Your grace it pleases me greatly to see you on the throne, I’d heard rumors you had taken ill or were otherwise indisposed”_

_Rhaegar looked at this man who stood before him with not a shred of worry or guilt for a long moment before responding._

_“I had received some very painful news my lord, and needed time to deal with it in private.” came his clipped response, he felt no need to further explain himself to his Warden, he had to remind himself to keep his voice calm as it was._

_“Ah yes I had heard word of the tragedy your grace, I wish to express my deepest condolences for your loss, the realm mourns for their lost prince.” for all his words of sympathy they were said in the same voice one might use to discuss the weather._

_The king clenched his fist slightly at the comment but otherwise remained still, resting on his throne with a stoic expression._

_“I thank you for your condolences my lord.” he uttered stiffly, there was a moment of quiet while both parties waited for the other to speak, “Forgive me my lord, I had not heard you were traveling to the capital, but why have you come to seek an audience with me?”_

_At this the Lord of Lannister stood a bit straighter before beginning what sounded like a rehearsed speech._

_“When I heard you had taken the throne I was overjoyed at the news, for to long the realm has needed a strong hand to guide it and none are better suited than you your grace.”he paused for a moment as clapping broke out around the hall, “I have come to pledge the fealty of house Lannister and the Westerlands to the one true king of Westeros.” the clapping intensified and several cheers could be heard amongst the court._

_At this point the corner of Tywin’s mouth lifted in an almost imperceptible smile and his voice carried even more confidence as he continued._

_“House Lannister has always prided itself on loyalty to the crown, for twenty years I served your father ably and faithfully even when his mind began to….deteriorate.” a brief pause as the clamor in the throne room died down slightly, “During my time as Hand we ensured a strong and lasting peace across the Kingdoms and grew the Crown's treasury to unprecedented levels. I have returned to the capital now too once again extend my services as Hand of the King, to aid you in your rule as I once did your father, your grace.”_

_Nearly all the lords and ladies of court were murmuring their support for the Lion, nodding their heads in agreement and smiling along, all except for the king himself. Throughout the entire address Rhaegar’s face had remained blank, completely unchanging as his violet eyes stayed fixed on Lord Tywin._

_The lord himself was the only one who seemed to notice, for as he concluded his speech and saw the king's unmoved expression his confidence wavered, before quickly rushing back._

_Rhaegar remained silent while the court clamored, waiting for silence to rein once more, “Your lordship speaks quite candidly Tywin, the lions are known for their loyalty after all.” Tywin’s smirk grew at the answering applause, missing the edge in the king's voice, “Yet, it would seem as though there has been a bit of a misunderstanding.”_

_The noise abruptly ceased and Tywin’s expression froze before quickly recovering, “Your grace? I’m afraid I don’t follow.”_

_“I believe,'' replied a wry, accented voice from behind the throne, “ that is precisely what his grace just said.”_

_Everyone in the throne room was silent, unsure of just what was unfolding before them, as with the same sly movements befitting his name, a tall dark skinned man walked through the doorway leading to the small council chamber behind the throne. He was young, in his twenty-fifth year, and handsome with neck length raven hair and warm brown eyes, dressed in a floor length orange robe adorned with small yellow suns. He wore a cocky smirk and strode with a swagger in his step to the king’s side._

_“Lord Tywin, I believe you have met Prince Oberyn, my good-brother.”_

_The expression on Tywin’s face shifted from surprise to thinly veiled irritation before he responded. “Yes your grace, I had the pleasure of making the Prince's acquaintance at your wedding in fact.”_

_Rhaegar’s expression still remained unchanged while Oberyn’s smirk had grown. “I remember it well Lord Tywin, a joyous day to be sure, though if I recall you seemed a bit less enthused than others in attendan-”_

_“Yes” interrupted Tywin, “A truly_ joyous _day, but now hardly seems the time for reminiscing about past festivities.” There was a slight edge to the Lord's voice now, not happy with the Vipers comment, or his sudden appearance._

_“As you clearly heard I was discussing my return to the position of Hand of the King with his grace”, a bit of confidence returned to the old Lion’s voice and he returned his gaze to Rhaegar, “As I was saying your grace, I humbly offer my service, though I am unsure what you meant by ‘misunderstanding”_

_For the first time since the audience began the Kings expression changed from neutral to a look that could almost be considered amused._

_“I am afraid Lord Tywin that the role of Hand of the King is precisely what this misunderstanding is about. Specifically your belief that I require a new one, I do not”_

_The drop of a pin could have been heard by everyone in the room in the silence that followed. Oberyn’s smirk had morphed into a full mouthed smile, his pearly teeth on display as several emotions flitted across Tywin's face rapidly before settling on confusion and in his eyes, a disbelieving horror at what the King was hinting at._

_“Your grace you…. you can’t possibly mean-“_

_“Prince Oberyn Martell has been named Hand of the King. He has proven himself loyal to the crown, he understands well the intrigue of court and the games we highborn like to play and how to handle them. He also has a.. unique insight of the smallfolk and their ways and concerns, which is to be expected given the amount of time he’s spent in their company._

_The Vipers grin grew at the King’s slight joke and the thunderous expression on Lord Tywin’s face._

_“There was to be an official announcement of his appointment as Hand in three days' time , but as the issue has presented itself now seems as good a time as any.”_

_“Your grace surely giving House Martell such preferential treatment will offend the other great lords of Westeros.”, It was plain for all to see Tywin was very much included in that group._

_“There are still several positions to be filled on the small council my lord and important roles to play in the Capital and all will be considered. And hurt feelings aside I have found Oberyn to be the best choice.” replied the King._

_“Is this some bad jest?! You would insult me by naming this boy Hand!? As if the Dornish presence at court wasn’t distasteful enough as it is!”, all sense of decorum or courtesy deserting the Lord of the Westerlands in his fury._

_A gasp came from those in the throne room as any trace of amusement left the King’s face to be replaced by cold anger as he rose to his feet._

_“You forget yourself Tywin, you are not King, and this isn’t Casterly Rock. Do not make the mistake of thinking you have power here_ my lord _”_

_Tywin no longer tried to mask his anger, “You can’t seriously think-”_

_“SILENCE!” roared Rhaegar._

_“I do not wish to continue this conversation for a moment longer than necessary, so listen well my lord._

_Oberyn’s smile had turned vicious and for the first time in Rhaegar’s memory Tywin Lannister looked dumbfounded by what he was hearing as though unable to comprehend that he was being spoken to in such a manner._

_“You waltz into my keep uninvited, without warning. You come before me unannounced expecting an audience, offering false words of sympathy while I mourn the loss of my son. You insult my children, my wife and her people. You, my lord, who sheltered at Casterly Rock while the realm bled and waited until the war was decided to enter the fray and pledge yourself to House Targaryen. And now you come to me with the audacity, the nerve, the gall to speak of_ Lannister loyalty _with your hand held out expecting a reward for your inaction.”_

_His every word rang throughout the room as the proud Lord Tywin stood rooted to the spot, cold fury in his green eyes but still silent._

_Rhaegar had descended the steps to the Iron Throne as he spoke until he stood mere feet from his warden._

_“Leave King's Landing my lord, and do not return unless you are summoned.”_

_Lord Tywin stood still as stone, fury radiating off of him, then turned sharply and walked out of the throne room fists clenched and his shoulders quivering with rage._

The King was torn from his memories by a loud huff nearby.

Rhaegar glanced to his left to see Viserys sneer at the merchants retreating back and fought to keep a grimace from his face. Of everyone in their family his brother was by far the least sympathetic towards the plight of those they ruled over, often dismissing the problems of the common folk as tedious and beneath his concern. Nor was his brother silent in his disdain for the court he insisted the royal family hold every moon to hear the words of his subjects, going on loudly and at length about how much of his precious time was wasted on the whining of peasants.

_“ Yes, gods forbid you be pulled away from your drinking and whoring for something so trivial.”_

As he waited for the next subject to be brought before him he glanced at each member of his family in turn, noting the engaged look on his daughters face and the practiced expression of polite concern on Aegon’s.

His son was the image of a perfect prince, charming and cordial, bearing the traditional Targaryen look, he was much beloved by the people. He was a handsome man, very similar to his father in appearance, long silver hair, purple eyes and pale skin. However there were times Rhaegar felt he took too much after his uncle, for despite his regal demeanor the crown prince was often known to favor the company of women and wine over that of his advisors. None on the small council would dare to say it openly, but the prince spent more time than was becoming in the cities more luxurious brothels. His son was a good man but he spent less time learning to rule and be a good king than Rhaegar would like. Aegon had known only peace in his life, had never been faced with the strife and unrest of an uneasy kingdom, he was but a babe during the War of the Usurper and still too young to remember much of the Greyjoy Rebellion either. He was proficient with the sword yes, and he was receiving instruction in tactics and the finer points of combat, but he had never seen war, he had never had to lead, not as Rhaegar had.

_“There are still many years to mold him to be a great king.”_

His gaze shifted then to Rhaenys and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

Rhaenys was the opposite of her brother in looks, taking almost entirely after her mother. A beautiful young woman, she had long dark hair streaked with silver and violet eyes but that was the extent of her Valyrian features, everything else about her was Dornish. She in fact looked strikingly similar to her cousin Arianne, the only major differences in appearance other than eyes and hair being a few inches in height and slightly lighter skin. His daughter had a sharp mind and was fiercely interested in the goings on of the Seven Kingdoms and their histories, often attending small council meetings in Aegon's place much to Oberyn’s delight and to the consternation of some of his other advisors. She was a dragon to be sure, never one to sit idly by and let her future be decided for her.

Turning his gaze once more his smile grew ever so slightly

_“Ah sweet sister.”_

If there was anyone more loved by the people of King’s Landing than their king it was undoubtedly their princess. She too possessed the Targaryen look, with startlingly violet eyes and waist length silver hair she truly was a vision. Many lords had come to court, tripping over each other in their haste to proclaim her the most beautiful women in the world and win her favor. Rhaegar almost felt sorry for them at times. His sister would never allow herself to be lorded over, she would never marry a man who only sought to use her for his own means, and he was not much inclined to deter her in that respect. From an early age Daenerys had won the hearts of the people with her charm and generosity, giving food to the poor and gold to orphanages in Flea Bottom, Daenerys the Delight they called her but she had fire in her veins, she was free and uninhibited, a true dragon, the blood of Old Valyria.

The king was broken from his musing as a young man was brought forward, no doubt wishing to ask some favor of the royal family. Bringing his attention to the man before him Rhaegar was momentarily wrongfooted, for despite his tanned skin the man had a distinctly northern look about him, his dark hair, steely grey eyes and slightly long face were all very reminiscent of his northernmost kingdom. However there was also something foregin about him, examining the man more closely he saw that his long black hair reached to the middle of his back and was tied in a braid of sorts. He also noted that the odd leather vest and matching breeches he wore were frayed in places and looked weather worn, as though they had spent many long days under the sun. His arms were marred by a patchwork of smaller scars including what looked like an arrow wound on his left shoulder, as well as a single thin scar over his right eye. All of these things combined to give him the look of a much older man, and despite likely being younger than Aegon his appearance bespoke a hard life.

_“A sellsword perhaps?”_

However it was the man's voice that caused the greatest surprise, for when he spoke it was with a slightly harsh Essosi accent

“Your grace,” he bowed deeply, eyes flicking between members of the royal family, “it is an honor to meet the great dragon king... I have traveled a long way to speak with you.”

He paused then, seeming unsure of how to continue, or if he would be allowed too, glancing at the guards on either side of him as if in question.

Rhaegar smiled slightly at this.

“Go on please, what is it you have come so far to tell me?”

He hesitated for another moment ,then, “I was born in Westeros, I never knew my parents, who they were or even where exactly I was from, but I know it is my home.” he seemed more sure of himself, standing slightly taller and displaying a bit of confidence, “When I was but a babe I was found by a wandering Khalasar and rather than leave me to die they took me in and raised me as one of their own.”

There were several gasps from those in attendance and the King himself sat a bit straighter in his throne, eyes widening slightly interest piqued by the boy’s tale

“ _Dothraki, I couldn’t quite place the accent but I know that much.”_

When Rhaegar held court like this he heard the troubles of dozens of people but more often than not it was always the same two or three problems. But a man born in Westeros raised in Essos as a Dothraki? That was a first for him.

“As I grew I learned their ways and customs, they taught me to ride, to hunt, to fight. I had my first taste of battle at twelve years of age and proved my strength, I earned my place in the khalasar.I saw much of Essos traveling with the khalasar, learned much about the world we wondered, we fought… we raided.”

At this the guards on either side of him tensed, their hands dropping to the pummels of their swords, ready to cut this man, this dothraki screamer down should their king give the word. He held up a hand, waving them off, this man was either very bold or very stupid to state such a thing before a king, and he was curious to know what would move him to reveal such a thing in either case. With a nod of his head he bid the man to continue his tale.

“You have no doubt heard tales of the dothraki, their savagery, but our khalasar was.. different. We were smaller than many of the other hordes, less than 3000 strong, and our Khal was unique. He was captured and sold as a young boy and spent years in chains, when he escaped he knew he could not do to others what had been done to him. He returned to his people, became a khal, formed his own khalasar and taught them a new way to live as a dothraki. They wondered and fought and raided as all dothraki did, but they did not slaughter and rape those raided, they did not make slaves of ones they defeated

“For years we traveled through Essos freeing those in chains when we encountered them, cutting down masters who crossed our path. When we weren't fighting we traveled the free cities, enjoying life's pleasures” the man had a smile on his face now, his dark eyes shining as though lost in some pleasant memory, for a moment he looked younger, more like his age, but then a shadow passed over his face his eyes darkened and his smile was replaced with scowl, “Then one day we heard talk of a band of slavers traveling to Meereen in hopes of making a large purchase, we were in Volantis at the time and they were rumored to be passing through. We had done it many times before, attack a slave caravan on the road, free the slaves and take anything valuable.”

At this point nearly the entire royal family was listening, unsure what the purpose of this story was but interested all the same.

“We should have known there was something wrong, when we tracked them down there were no slaves to be found in their camp and only a handful of men guarding a single carriage. When we ventured closer to the encampment they fell upon us. It was a trap. Apparently some masters had grown angry with our freeing their hard won slaves and decided we needed to be dealt with, they had hired a company of sellswords to slaughter us.” the man paused at this point, visibly shaking with anger, “Our Khal fought fiercely but we were greatly outnumbered, he fell. After that it was a bloodbath, only a few dozen of us managed to escape their attack but they chased us still, we hid in the forests for five days trying to escape our hunters, we failed.” he took a deep breath, clenching his fists, then continued.

“The sellswords had been given specific instructions, smash the khalasar and take the survivors as slaves. Dothraki are not made into pillow or house slaves, we do not break so easily, they had something else in mind for us, the fighting pits.”

Everyone in the room, minus a certain prince, was listening now with rapt attention, still unsure where the stranger's story was going but interested all the same.

“For over a year we killed for the masters' entertainment and our numbers grew smaller still with no hope of freedom, until one night there was a revolt, the slaves had risen up. In the chaos we managed to escape, grabbed our weapons, stole some horses and rode west as hard as we could until we reached Volantis.”

He paused again, wanting to know if he would be allowed to finish his tale. The King, whose eyes had not left this strange man the entire time, gave a slight nod to continue.

“When we made it into the city we had nothing but our weapons and the clothes on our backs, we were little more than beggars. But it seemed that the Great Stallion had not completely abandoned us, a day after we arrived we heard word of a sellsword company looking for recruits, they had been in the city for a moon's turn and were about to depart. We had no gold or wealth to offer, only ourselves and our steel but that was enough, we joined up that night and left with them the following morning. For a year we fought for the Second Son’s, riding wherever we were needed in the Free Cities. Until three moons ago, our company had been called to Pentos to help defend against some vicious pirates and after our contract was completed some of us celebrated our victory at a local tavern. There was a bard at the tavern, one of the men asked to hear a story from the west and once he was given his coin the bard began a tale. I knew little of my homeland so I listened, the man told a story of a great war across the Narrow Sea and of a valiant dragon prince-”

“Hurry up already and tell us what it is you want, savage,” Viserys interrupted with a sneer and a wave of his hand, “Enough of our time has been wasted listening to this sorry-”

“Silence!” The throne room fell quiet, the king's booming voice echoing around the hall, one hand raised towards his brother in warning the other tightly gripping the arm of his throne. Throughout this entire anecdote he had been meeting the man's gaze, studying his face, there was something unsettlingly familiar about him, the long face, the dark hair, _his eyes._ They all reminded him so much of-

_No it’s not, it can't be, it’s impossible._

The dark haired man waited another moment then resumed speaking, “He spoke at length about the War of the Usurper, most everyone in the tavern had turned away after a while but I never did, I listened to every word. When he finally reached the end of this tale there was something about it that seemed….familiar. After the war's end the Dragon Prince faced more pain, his princess was taken from him…..and his prince was lost at sea.”

Rhaegar couldn’t move, he felt like he couldn't breathe, his hands were clenching the throne so tightly the melted blades were beginning to cut into them. He didn't register anything else, his attention focused entirely on the man in front of him.

The man seemed just as arrested as he was but he pushed on, “I knew only two things about my life before Essos.” he began to walk forward and the guards moved to seize him but the king halted them with a look. Whispers began to fill the room, the lords and ladies of court unsure what was happening as the man walked slowly towards the edge of the steps where stood a lit brazier.

“I was born in Westeros.” he had reached the flaming bowl but never once broke eye contact. 

The king stood so quickly his head felt light but he didn’t notice, his eyes were flaming, breath caught in his throat as he stood spellbound.

“And I was found washed ashore as a babe.”

With a deep breath he tore his gaze away from the king and set his sight on the dancing flames before him. He raised his arm and without any hesitation thrust it into the fire. 

The hall had gone completely still, the only sound made by the crackling of the fire. There was no scream of pain, no cry of agony, not so much as a grunt of discomfort from the man as he watched the flames writhe around his fist. After a long moment he withdrew his hand from the brazier revealing it to be completely unblemished, and looked up at the king once more, his face a blank mask as though uncertain of what came next. 

Slowly, very slowly he walked down the steps of the throne, somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of his family calling after him having risen as well now. He could pay them no mind, nothing else in the world existed but the man he was slowly moving towards. 

For the first time since his arrival the young man looked truly anxious, his body was still, almost unnaturally so, but his eyes held a combination of swirling unidentifiable emotions.

As the king came face to face with the man his mind was in a frenzy. He drank in every minute detail of the man's face, searching desperately for something, anything to disprove what he already knew, his mind unable to comprehend the sheer impossibility of what was happening. But he couldn’t, everything about this man spoke of the truth.

Slowly, hand trembling, Rhaegar reached for the man's face, hesitated for a moment and then placed his hand upon his cheek. “How...how is it possible..Jaehaerys?”, his voice shook and a single tear fell down his cheek.

The man, no, _his son_ finally broke from his trance, his brow furrowing and his face a storm of confusion. “What..what did you say?”

The King could hold back no longer, the tears fell freely now and something between a laugh and a sob left his mouth. “Jaehaerys, that’s your name.”

His son, _his son's_ face began to crack as well and a tear rolled down his right cheek, the dam beginning to break. “Jaehaerys'', the name sounded foregin on his tongue, “My name I..I never knew my real name.”

Rhaegar stepped forward then and flung his arms around his lost prince, clutching him tightly to his chest as though worried if he released him for even a moment he would disappear. A pair of shaking arms returned the embrace as every eye in the throne room remained glued to the scene, everyone present stunned into silence.


	2. A Tourney Nears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I started writing this after I posted the first chapter earlier today, I honestly just wanted to see if I could turn it out by end of day, but I'm probably not going to maintain this pace lol hope you enjoy!

The weeks following the prince’s miraculous return had been chaotic to say the least. The King had decided to indeed hand the responsibilities that would have normally consumed his time over to Oberyn in favor of spending nearly every waking moment with his son and family. There was afterall 17 years of catching up to do.

Aegon could not rightly remember the last time he had seen his father so happy, the slight sense of melancholy that always seemed to follow the king banished with his brother’s return. As for himself he had also been filled with joy upon learning that the strange man from Essos who had come seeking an audience was actually his long lost brother.

Despite what some had assumed over the years neither himself, Rhaenys or their mother had harbored any ill will towards Lyanna Stark or the child she had borne. His mother was a dornishwoman to her core and as his uncle was wont to say “Dorne understands passion”, and while it was not a topic he had ever broached with her he had had a suspicion for some years now that his mother may have enjoyed the company of women as well.

After the shock of the revelation of his brother's survival had worn off slightly the King had announced that very night that a grand tourney would be held in three weeks time to celebrate both the prince’s return and his nameday. He had ordered ravens sent with the news all throughout the kingdoms, inviting lords great and small to come and attend the festivities, and since then the Red Keep and the Capital as a whole had been a flurry of activity preparing for such a grand event on such short notice. With just over a week before the tourney’s commencement now the Red Keep was near bursting with visiting Lords and Ladies.

The greatest turn out had been from Dorne, the Crownlands and the Reach, Dorne was closer as a whole to the crown than they had ever been and likewise the Reaches relationship with House Targaryen had become increasingly favorable since Mace Tyrell’s appointment as Master of Ships. The entirety of House Velaryon had come to King's Landing to show their support. The Stormlands had sent a fair few lords to represent them as well, the most prominent being Renly Baratheon, although Lord Stannis had sent a letter with his younger brother informing the King that his duties as a Lord Paramount prevented him from attending. He didn’t believe Stannis harbored any hate for the Targaryens, his relationship with Robert had been strained at best, but there was still tension between themselves and the Stags of Stormsend

There hadn’t been any house from the Iron Islands to send word of their intent to visit but that was hardly surprising nor unwelcome, no one wanted to deal with a bunch Ironborn. Similarly only a hand full of Westerlands lords had made the trip, with the noteworthy absence of any Lannisters save Lord Tyrion but he knew that was little more than a formality and a backhanded one at that, despite the animosity between the Lions and the Dragons the Lannisters couldn’t afford to be completely absent from the Capital not after they’d been explicitly invited.

Then there was the North and The Vale, neither Kingdom had sent many representatives but that was more down to the distance and short notice than anything else. However they had received a raven just five days past from the Lord of WInterfell announcing his intent to travel south with the whole of the Stark family but warned they may not make it in time for the tourney.

The crown prince’s musings were interrupted by the door to his chambers opening behind him. He didn’t bother to turn around and see who it was, there were only four people who would dare enter his chambers without asking for permission

“Egg have you seen our brother?” came his sister's melodic voice, “Father was looking for him, he wishes Jae to be properly outfitted for the tourney, he’s sent for Tobho Mott.”

The name caught his attention, Mott was a mastersmith, well known for his unrivaled quality of armor and arms. He smirked slightly at his sister’s nickname for their brother, Jaehaerys was a bit of a mouthful when being spoken constantly so Rhaenys had taken to calling him Jae instead and the name had stuck within the family.

“I’m not entirely sure but I think he might be in the practice yard with those Dothraki of his, what did he call them again? His bloodriders?”In truth Egg had been somewhat wrongfooted when his brother had introduced the royal family to the three hardened looking Dothraki screamers. They had seemed standoffish at first, exchanging quick words in Dothraki with Jae before relaxing slightly and growing warmer to them once he had explained they were his family. Kovarro, Rakharo and Qhono were their names if he remembered correctly.

“Ahh I might have guessed as much.” replied his sister, “Any moment he’s not in father or one of our presences he seems to spend with them, would you accompany me to find him?”

“Of course.” he responded, “I could stand to spend sometime in the yard myself, the list of knights and lordlings participating in the tourney has grown quite large.” he grabbed his sword from its place leaning against his desk and followed his sister out of the room, bolting the door closed behind him.

As they made their way down the hall he glanced over at his older sister, “Do you know if uncle will be entering the tourney?”

The princess gave him a flat look as though wondering if he were simple, “I’d sooner expect Viserys to join the most devout than put himself in the discomfort a tourney would entail.”

At this Aegon threw back his head and laughed, the picture she painted of their snide uncle was indeed humorous. “I meant a different uncle Rhae.”

At this statement his sister returned his smirk and gave a small chuckle, “Oh he certainly wanted too, you know how much he enjoys these sorts of things, and he’s been very keen to spar with Jae as well. But mother all but forbade him from entering, something to the effect of ‘The last thing the King needs right now is his fool hand getting himself hurt or worse playing tourney Knight.’”

The hallway echoed with their laughter at his sister's comment, he could see, quite clearly in his mind, his uncle's face set in a pout at not being able to enter the lists. “She seems to take a certain pleasure in ordering him around.”

“She does at that.”replied Rhaenys, smirk still firmly in place.

“I must admit I’m rather keen to see him fight myself, they say the Dothraki are the fiercest warriors in the world and from the stories he’s told so far I’m inclined to believe it”

Rhaenys nodded in agreement, “As would I, I get the feeling he and his comrades are waiting to showcase their skills until the tournament, as soon as Jae explained what the events would entail to the three of them they seemed excited and I saw all of their names on the list of competitors.”

As they grew closer to the training yard Aegon voiced a question he’d been pondering on for a few weeks now, “Rhae, does it seem odd to you at times that our brother seems to eschew his princely status,” at his sisters questioning look he continued, “What I mean is he seems not to take advantage of his station, he always saddles and tacks his own horse, he draws his own baths, and I’ve seen him on more than one occasion fetch his own food from the kitchens himself, so many small things anyone else in his position would simply have a servant do for them, but it’s as if he almost goes out of his way to do them himself.”

The princess was silent for a moment before responding, “Our brother has had… a hard life Aegon, after some of the things he’s told us I’m honestly not all that surprised he’s having some difficulties adjusting to life as a Prince.”

He agreed on that point, she didn’t have to specify for him to know exactly of what she spoke, he remembered it clear as day himself and he imagined he would for a very long time. A few days after Jaehaerys’s return the whole of House Targaryen had been gathered for a private dinner, something that become a bit of a norm at his father’s insistence. The conversation had been light and casual initially, but about halfway through the third course this father had broached a subject he had seemed reluctant to address before. Something that they had all been curious about but hesitant to bring up themselves. He questioned Jae about his time as a slave. His brother had immediately stiffened and after a painfully long moment of silence, during which it seemed he would not answer, he spoke. Even after he had told them of his treatment during his captivity Aegon had had the sick feeling that his brother had refrained from bringing up the worst of his experiences as a slave in the fighting pits. When he had spoken of the brutal training and vicious beatings handed out at random the look of anguish on their father’s face had been like a punch to the gut.

As they rounded the next corner a familiar head of silver hair came into view

“Dany!” they called at the same time, the princess whirled around seeming surprised but relaxing when she saw who it was, “We’re on our way to the training yard to find Jae, care to join us?”

He knew the answer before she’d given it, after their father Rhaenys and Dany had likely spent the most time with the new prince, it made sense in a way they had both always been fascinated by other cultures and stories from the east. Additionally Aegon himself had been, at his father’s insistence, busier than usual, taking on more responsibilities as the crown prince what with the influx of nobility arriving at the Capital. The amount of times he had to make the same meaningless introductions and greetings with the visiting lords was driving him mad. It didn’t help either that his time spent enjoying _life's pleasures_ had also declined sharply. 

She answered as he had expected, “Sounds wonderful, that’s the last place Viserys is likely to be as well.” said Daenerys muttering the last bit in an annoyed tone.

Rhaenys smirked at the comment and he struggled to contain a chuckle. Viserys wasn’t their favorite family member at the best of times and his famously short temper had been worse as of late. He wasn’t rude or hostile to the new member of House Targaryen but he did seem to resent the attention being lavished on the younger prince.

“Oh you don’t wish to be around our darling uncle right now?” Rhaenys question could not have been layered with more false innocence if she tried

Dany threw her niece a scathing glare before responding, “You know full well how insufferable he’s been lately.”

The siblings could not contain their laughter at the look of irritation on their aunts face, Egg only ceasing when she smacked the back of his head. “Oww! Seven Hells Dany.” Prompting Rhaenys to laugh even harder.

Aegon continued to grumble under his breath as they reached their destination, looking out from the terrace they stood on he scanned the training yard for a moment before catching sight of their quarry. His brother was indeed with his Dothraki comrades laughing at some comment made by, _was it Qhono?_ He wasn’t sure, he was still having a bit of a hard time keeping them straight. 

Jae’s chosen clothing made him easy to spot in the Capital, instead of adopting the fashion of King’s Landing when being fitted for his attire the prince had requested sets of leathers similar to the ones he had worn upon his arrival and the royal tailor had complied. The only noticeable changes being the quality of the leather itself and the color, instead of rugged brown the princes clothing had been dyed the colors of their house, black with red trimming along the edges and seams. Another noticeable difference in his brothers appearance from others in the city was his choice of weaponry, when their father had offered to have a sword of the highest quality forged for his son the prince had politely declined, saying he already had a weapon and that he had grown to prefer the curved blade of the Dothraki.

Aegon smiled and opened his mouth to call out to his brother, but was beaten to it, Jae’s attention being grabbed by another voice from the other end of the training yard. He followed the voice with his gaze and instantly recognized its source, Loras Tyrell the Knight of the Flowers.

“Prince Jaehaerys!” called the handsome young Knight, “I’ve not yet had the pleasure, I am Loras Tyrell of Highgarden it is an honor to meet you your grace.” he finished with a bow.

Jae eyed the man before him then stood and made his way towards the knight, behind him one of his Dothraki whispered something in their harsh tongue causing the others to chuckle. _Rakharo I think?_

Despite being a bit rough around the edges when it came to the courtesies of court Jae had taken well to interacting with knights and other warriors within the Capital. As he closed the distance between himself and the Knight of the Flowers he extended his hand, however instead of shaking the man’s hand as Loras was clearly expecting, he instead clapped his forearm in his grip in the same way Aegon had seen him do with the Dothraki. The Reacher lord seemed slightly surprised by the lack of decorum but quickly reacted gripping the prince's forearm in return.

Finally Jaehaerys spoke. “I know of your family Loras Tyrell, good friends to my own.” he said simply.

Aegon grinned at this, he was coming to find that his brother was many things, but long winded was not one of them.

Jae was silent for a moment, examining the man before him before speaking again, “You wear good armor and carry a fine sword, will you be competing in the.. Tourney?” he struggled slightly on the last word, clearly still unfamiliar to his tongue.

Loras grinned before responding, “I shall indeed, I have in fact participated in many tourneys before and won my fair share of them as well, I am very much looking forward to it.” friendly expression still firmly in place, the Knight then proceeded to ask what he had clearly been wanting to from the start. “In fact if it is not too much to ask your grace, would you honor me with a friendly spar? I would love to see your prowess with a blade.”

Aegon sucked in a breath at the request, in truth he had been expecting this to happen sooner or later. Ever since his brother's arrival at court there had been whispers, certain lords and knights who wished to test the prince’s metal but so far none had been brave or ballsy enough to try him. Until now that is.

Rather quickly the attention of all present, including a handful of other lordlings and knights training for the melee as well as the guards stationed around the perimeter, shifted to the duo.

 _Qhono? Yes that one was Qhono._ He was the first to react to the knight's request, a slight frown came to his face and his hand dropped to the handle of his curved blade. Next was Rakharo who reacted in a similar fashion and finally, after a whispered word in his ear, there was Kovarro who reacted the most aggressively, a snarl forming on his lips as he too dropped his hand to his weapon. 

They made to stand up but Jae raised a hand, barely glancing glancing back as he signaled them to stop. They froze then nodded and sat, still watching the knight intently.

Loras for his part seemed slightly alarmed by the brief exchange, glancing back to Jae who now had a slight smile on his face. “There is no need to worry Lord Loras.” said the prince. “A miscommunication, you see to a Dothraki bloodrider, a threat to their Khal is the greatest of offences, they mistook your request to spar for a real challenge.”

The Tyrell lord calmed at that, his friendly smile returning, “Apologies my prince, I’m afraid I am rather ignorant of the ways of Dothraki warriors.”

Jae gave the man another quick once over before speaking again. 

“I accept, we shall spar.”

Loras’s answering grin was even wider, “You honor me my prince.” he said with a bow.

He paused however when Jae took up a fighting stance, looking confused. “Your grace, surely you can’t mean to fight with live steel dressed as you are.” he said, gesturing towards the prince’s leathers.

Jae simply smiled. “Do not fear Lord Tyrell, I shall be fine.”

At his statement a murmur went up around the yard, Aegon could have sworn he heard someone say, “Rather arrogant of him isn’t it?.” He scowled and looked around for the source but could not identify the guilty party.

“Should we say something?” asked Rhaenys from beside him, “I know Jae is quite capable but… well Loras is widely considered one of the most talented swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms.” she had a slight look of worry on her face as did Dany.

“No.” sighed Aegon, “To interfere now would only make him look weak, we’ll just have too-” but he trailed off, his eyes now focusing on the blade in his brother's hand.

He squinted, not quite believing what he thought he saw, before his eyes blew wide.

“It.. it can’t be.” he whispered.

“What?” questioned Daenerys, “What is it?

“By the gods it is.” he whispered once again, not seeming to hear his aunt’s question.

Rhaenys huffed impatiently. “What are you going on about Aegon?”

“His blade, his arakh I think he called it. It’s made out of Valyrian Steel.”

Both his sister and aunt whipped their heads around to examine the weapon as the prince had. They may have not had a deep knowledge of weaponry but they knew enough to recognize the dark color and swirling lines of Valyrian Steel. 

It was Rhaenys who spoke next, “Where in Seven Hells did he get that?”

“I don’t know but I intend to ask him when this is over.”

Loras had clearly come to the same realization that they had, his eyes going wide for a moment his mouth slightly open, before he mastered himself and settled into an offensive position as the prince waited patiently.

The knight made the first move, lunging towards the prince so quickly he seemed a blur to the watching royals. Jae sidestepped the thrust easily, his blade raised but still waiting, watching his opponents movements closely.

Loras seemed slightly shocked his adversary had evaded the blow so easily but quickly recovered, launching into a series of quick strikes and slashes designed to overwhelm the young prince. However Jae blocked or dodged all of them, still not striking, examining his opponent.

_He’s testing him, wants to see how he fights._

This continued for another minute or so with the Knight of the Flowers becoming frustrated at his inability to land a hit and at the prince’s continued lack of offense. Finally the knight spoke.

“Come now your grace, are you going to dance away the whole fight?”

Jaehaerys parried another blow, and then smiled.

Quicker than Aegon would have thought possible his brother finally struck, leaping at the knight and raining down a flurry of blows so fast he couldn’t follow his movements. Loras was immediately on the backfoot, cursing loudly and trying desperately to hold off the onslaught.

He understood now why his brother had chosen to fight dressed as he was, he was more than fast and skilled enough to evade the knight's blows. And while Loras was better protected he was also slower as a result, he was still quick to be sure but seeing his brother attacking now he knew he could not hope to match the prince's raw speed.

The prince made to strike at the knights left leg, going low for a savage strike, Loras moved to parry, but at the last possible moment he spun, turning faster than the knight could hope to follow, getting past his guard and delivering a brutal slash to Loras’s sword arm, nearly cutting clean through the steel plate he wore.

The knight cried out, though he had been spared a grievous hit the steel where the blade had struck was crumpled inward, digging in harshly to his arm, making it painful for him to raise the limb more than halfway. The match ended quickly after that, Loras barely managed to deflect the next two strikes before, with an almost lazy flourish of his blade, the prince disarmed him before getting in close and ramming him with his shoulder, sending the lord tumbling to the ground.

He levied his blade at the fallen knight, “Yield.” he said simply

All said and done the fight had lasted mere minutes but the Knight of the Flowers had been thoroughly put through his paces. As he lay on his back Loras looked genuinely shocked, not quite sure how the tide had turned so quickly but after a moment he let out a laugh, a real laugh.

“I yield.” He held up his hands and the prince then hauled him to his feet, “Well done your grace well done indeed.” he gave a slight shake of his head before continuing, “By the Seven, do all Dothraki fight like that Prince Jaehaerys?”

It was not the prince who answered however, swaggering over to clap a hand on his brother’s shoulder, it was Qhono who spoke. “No Loras Tyrell, few Dothrakan fight with our Khal’s ferocity.”, he paused for a moment, “You fight well, for an Andal.” Then he turned and walked back to sit with his fellows.

The knight made to speak again but was cut off by a slow clap. Aegon looked around for the source and saw a pair of figures descending from the stairway on the other side of the yard, the same direction Loras had come from. As they emerged from the shadows Loras, along with everyone else in the yard but for the Prince, dropped to his knee as King Rhaegar and Queen Elia made their presence.

*****

“Rise.” he bayed them all, a beaming look of pride upon his face. “Incredible my son, I have never seen someone fight as you do. And you Ser Loras, you acquitted yourself quite well.”

Jaehaerys was surprised, he’d had no idea his father had been secretly present for his bout with Reacher Lord. He made to bow his head but the King waved it off.

“None of that now.” he paused for a moment, still beaming, “If that display is anything to go by I dare say those entering the melee for the tourney will have quite a problem on their hands.” cheers followed the King’s statement, along with whoops and several cries of _Jaehaerys!_

Loras bowed his head respectfully before turning back to the Jae. “It was a pleasure, truly my prince, I look forward to seeing you in the tourney.”, he turned once again to the King bowing deeply. “By your leave your grace.” the King nodded and the Knight of the Flowers gave one last smile before turning and walking back the way he came, whistling a tune as he did so.

The King’s gaze then shifted, looking over his son’s shoulder he said, “But it would seem I am not the only one observing your duel from the shadows.”

Jae turned then, looking up to his brother, sister and aunt all smiling down at him from a terrace above. He gave a smile in return and waved, prompting the three to descend the stairs and hurry toward him. Rhaenys was the first to reach him, surprising him slightly by pulling him into a tight embrace which he returned. She held onto him for several moments before pulling back and grinning.

“That was fantastic! I’ve seen Ser Loras defeated once or twice, but never quite like that.”

She gave his arm a squeeze before stepping back only to be replaced by Dany who likewise pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I quite agree with Rhaenys, but I find myself most curious about the blade you carry nephew, where in the world did you find a Valyrian Steel, _arakh,_ I believe you called it?”

He smiled at that, of all the Targryens, Daenerys had the best grasp of the Dothraki language, pronouncing the word perfectly.

From behind him he heard Rakharo speak up. “Yes Khal! Tell them of how you slew the Corpsekiller!” his other bloodriders nodding in agreement.

His brother gave him a curious look as he clapped him on the shoulder. “The Corpsekiller? Now this is a story I must hear brother!”

He smiled and nodded, he wasn’t generally one to sing his own praises but he could not deny that particular story brought him a good deal of pride. He sat and pondered for a moment how to begin.

“It was just under a year ago, one of the first contracts the Second Son’s had accepted with us in their ranks in fact.”, he was only a sentence in and yet the whole courtyard was listening, riveted, “The disputed lands were once again in conflict, Myr and Tyrosh at each other's throats. We were hired by Myr to defeat Tyrosh’s sellsword company, they’d been harassing and attacking their convoys on the dragonroad and were generally just being a pain in Myr’s ass.”

A few laughs at that and then he continued.

“The company we were to fight was known to me, _The Windblown_.” he spat the name as though it were a curse and off to his side he heard his bloodriders spit on the ground as well. “We knew of their tactics and preferences and so we laid a trap. We sent a splinter force, about a third of our number, out to where they were last seen to make camp hoping to lure them out. It worked.” his eyes darkened for a moment, lost in a memory.

“They took the bait, ran full force at our men, we suffered some losses but before they could gain the advantage the rest of the company had moved behind their lines. We charged them, over a thousand of us on horseback and we cut through them like a knife through butter.”

The small crowd that had gathered around him was hanging on his every word now, eager to know how the tale ended.

“It became clear we would win the day, but still the Windblown fought on, as the battle neared its end I came face to face with one of their captains, Caggo the Corpsekiller. A huge brute and vicious too, he once took a slave girl from another sellsword, then killed her because he thought her ugly.”

At this comment there were shocked looks on several faces, perhaps stunned by the man's depravity.

“Caggo, a challenge he was, we dueled for a good while but eventually I gained the advantage. I was on the defense when he made a savage strike, meaning to take off my head, but I ducked, twisted around the man and cut off his arm.” he took a sip from the wineskin offered to him by Kovarro then finished his story.

“The fight was done then, he fell to his knees clutching his stump of an arm, I bent down and removed from his hand this arakh.” he brandished his weapon amid gasps of surprise, “And I removed the man’s head.”

Kovarro, Rakharo and Qhono shouted a cheer for him, they had as much reason to hate the Windblown captain as he did after all, but many around him remained silent.

His aunt and sister had matching looks of pride on their faces, his brother’s was a mix of respect and surprise, but it was his father’s expression he focused on. He too looked proud, but it was tinged with sadness at what his son had experienced in his short life.

Surprisingly, it was the Queen who spoke first, “Still so young yet you have seen so much.” she walked forward until she stood directly in front of him and placed her hand on his cheek, “And you still have so far to go, my young prince.”she finished with a warm smile at her good son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more back story on Jon and some family interaction. And before anyone feels the need to point it out yes i know Caggo didnt become known as the corpsekiller until a dance of dragons but I needed it for the story and this is an au fic so sue me. Also quick note I am aware that targs being fire proof is a show thing pretty much exclusively but this is gonna be a blend of the books and the show.


	3. The Prince's Tourney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this took so long to get out, it's the longest chapter so far and I went over it several times. I'm still not a 100% satisfied with it but I needed to move forward, hope you enjoy! Also this is unbetaed so apologies for any small spelling or grammatical mistakes.

Jaehaerys Targaryen sat on a weathered stone bench in the gardens of the Red Keep wondering at how his life had changed so drastically so quickly. Little more than a moon's turn ago he was nothing more than a Dothraki sellsword with a half mad belief of who he might truly be. Now he was a prince of the Sunset Kingdoms, with a family, and a large one at that. Of course he had loved and lost among his adopted people, but he had always known that he was not born one of them, merely raised. Kovarro, Rakharo and Qhono were his brothers in all but blood, and now he had that as well.

 _Aegon._ The name was still slightly difficult for him. _He is not a warrior, but he is a good man and a good brother._

Ever since his arrival his brother had been kind and welcoming, rejoicing at the return of his sibling thought to be long dead. He had taken it upon himself to show Jaehaerys the city, while certainly grand it paled slightly next to some of the cities he had visited in Essos. He didn’t voice this thought however, it was clear the prince had a deep love for King’s Landing.

One memorable afternoon they had shared several flagons of wine at a tavern near the Red Keep and he had convinced Aegon to try a bit of mare’s milk. The prince had nearly gagged when the drink hit his tongue and Jae had roared with laughter at his reaction.

Afterwards his brother had tried to persuade Jae to accompany him to a brothel owned by a woman named Chataya but he had declined and Aegon had ventured there on his own. He had nothing against the practice, he simply didn’t pay for a woman's company.

His thoughts then shifted to the other family he had met who shared his blood.

_The Starks_

Just a day past they had arrived in the city and the introductions had been made.

_House Targaryen, with a single exception, had all been present to greet the Starks of Winterfell. They were stood at the entrance of the Red Keep's main courtyard, the King a step ahead with the rest of his family behind him. They had only been waiting a few minutes when the gate to the courtyard was opened and some 50 mounted riders had filed into the yard, followed by two simple wheelhouses._

_It was easy to identify the Starks, all the guardsmen were dressed almost identically and less finely._

_He heard a strange sound coming from one of the wheelhouses, something resembling a high pitched whine but was distracted as the group before him began to dismount their horses._

_The first one to catch the prince’s attention was a well built man perhaps in his fourth decade. He had a long face and dark grey eyes, his brown hair hanging down to his shoulders and his beard closely shorn. He wore a fine set of leathers, very different to the style of Jae’s own but of similar quality, matching gloves and boots of supple brown leather and an impressive looking greatsword at his hip. This had to be Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell_

_Dismounting next to him was a young man dressed similarly, there was a slight resemblance but for the most part his features were very different. His hair was auburn, slightly curly and shorter with a clean shaven face. His eyes were a bright blue and he had a jovial look upon his face, his build was leaner than the man who must be his father. Robb Stark then._

_He paused in his examinations as the assembled party before them knelt before the King._

_“Your grace, thank you for having us.” his voice had a soft burr to it and his accent was different from any he had heard during his brief time in Westeros._

“Is… is that what my mother sounded like?”

_“Rise Lord Stark.”_

_The lord rose as instructed as did the rest of his party. Rhaegar looked the man over for a moment before resuming._

_“It has been many years my lord, I’m glad to see you hale and hearty, would you do me the pleasure of introducing your family?”_

_A small smile now graced the lord's solemn face, “Of course my King.”_

_He motioned to the young man next to him, “This is my son and heir, Robb Stark, he celebrated his seventeenth nameday just a few moons past.”_

_Robb bowed low in greeting, “It is an honor your grace.”_

_The King looked the young lord up and down for a moment, “You have your mother’s look, a good strong lad, and I already know the son of Eddard Stark will grow to be a just and honorable Lord.”_

_He moved then to the young girl with flaming red hair next to him, “That must make you Sansa. It is clear you will grow to be a beautiful young lady, I hope the south is to your liking so far?”_

_The young Lady Stark blushed heavily before stammering out a reply, “Of.. of course your Grace, the Capital is all I had hoped!”_

_He continued down the line, but when his father came to stand in front of the small dark haired girl with a long face and grey eyes he froze and for the briefest of moments a look of utter sorrow flickered across his face and when he spoke his voice had a minute quaver to it. “And you… you must.. be Arya Stark, am I correct?”_

_“Yes your grace!” replied the energetic girl, oblivious to the King’s momentary slip._

_His voice had returned to its normal cadence, “I’d wager you're a menace back home, a true she-wolf?”_

_“So my mother says.” she said with a slight frown, but her smile returned when the King gently ruffled her hair before moving to the last of the children in line._

_“And you my young lord are Brandon correct?”_

_“I am your grace!”_

_“And how do you like the Capital Bran?”_

_“It’s very different from Winterfell, your grace, it is much warmer and there are so many knights! I’ve always wanted to be a knight.” said the boy enthusiastically._

_“I am sure that could be arranged in time.” replied the King, giving the boy a warm smile before taking a step back._

_Lord Stark spoke once more, “Unfortunately your grace my wife could not make the journey, our youngest child Rickon is still little more than a babe and she felt such a long trip would be too much for him.”_

_The King gave a small nod, “There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.”_

_His father then made the necessary introductions for the royal family one by one before reaching the youngest prince._

_“And this is my youngest son, Prince Jaehaerys, Jaehaerys this… this is your mother’s family.”_

_The courtyard was silent as he walked towards this family, this family that was so foregin to him but with whom he shared blood. When he stood before the Warden of the North he was unsure what to feel. As he met the man's eyes he saw on his face the same expression his father had worn minutes ago, a kind of sorrowful recognition in those grey eyes so like his own. For a moment the lord remained still, but eventually broke from his daze._

_“Forgive me for staring your grace it.. it’s just,” he gulped audibly, “You..you look so much like her.”_

_It was his turn to gulp now, “There is nothing to forgive my lord.”_

_Despite surely knowing the circumstances of his upbringing Eddard briefly looked surprised at the sound of his voice having never heard what a Dothraki sounded like._

_“Perhaps..perhaps I could share some stories of her? If that would please your grace.”_

_He gave a small smile then, “Yes, I would like that..uncle.”_

_Eddard returned the smile, eyes locked for another long moment before he turned to the man's son._

_He was less reserved and less formal in his next greeting, “That would make us cousins then Lord Robb.”_

_By now he was used to his traditional greeting of clasping the forearm surprising those on the receiving end but to his credit the auburn haired lord showed none, returning the gesture firmly._

_“It would my prince, to see one of our blood return after so long is a blessing. Already I have heard tales of your adventures across the Narrow Sea, and of your skill with the blade. I hope you will oblige me with a demonstration while we are in the Capital?” asked the northerner with a crooked grin._

_The prince returned it with a slight gleam in his eye at the challenge arms still clasped, “I would be happy to cousin, I will show you how my people fight.”_

_Releasing his grip he moved on to Sansa, “A pleasure to meet you Lady Sansa, my father speaks true you will surely grow to be a lovely lady, your hair is quite distinct cousin, it reminds me of a woman I once met in Volantis.”_

_If possible the young Stark blushed even deeper than she had before only managing a flustered, “Th-Thank you my prince, it is truly an honor to meet you.”_

_He quirked an eyebrow at that, the girl seemed nice, if a bit overly formal for his taste._

_As he approached the youngest Stark sister he didn’t even get the chance to open his mouth before she loudly asked, “You were raised by the Dothraki, is it true they eat their horses and burn their dead?”_

_Several members of the Stark party tensed and sucked in a loud breath._

_Sansa looked mortified as she turned on her sister, “ARYA!”_

_However she was stopped from continuing when he let out a roar of laughter at the young lady’s boldness. As his laughter tapered of he could hear the slight giggling of his sister and aunt behind him_

_“It is little cousin,” he said, still with a slight chuckle, “in the Dothraki sea horse meat was often all we had to eat, and we burn our dead so that in death they may ride in the sky with the Great Stallion,”_

_The little she-wolf looked positively delighted by his response and to his right he heard the sound of a barely contained guffaw, likely from her eldest brother, whilst her sister looked scandalized._

_Finally he reached the end of the row and knelt down to look the little lord in the eyes._

_“You said you wanted to be a knight when you grew bigger?” the boy nodded eagerly, “I’ll make sure you have plenty of chances young Bran.”_

_That evening the King had invited the Stark family to a private dinner in the Red Keep._

The prince was broken from his reminiscence by the feeling of a soft hand being placed over his own. He glanced to the side only to be met by the violet eyes of his sister and a teasing smirk on her full lips.

“Where did you go Jae? You were just staring off into space.”

He felt another hand grasp the opposite wrist.

“Yes Jae, we’re not boring you are we dear nephew?”, he turned to find a deceptively innocent look on his aunt’s face but he could see the fiery mischief reflected in her purple orbs.

He swallowed dryly, there were moments he suspected his aunt and sister knew the effect their beauty sometimes had on him and purposely teased him about it. He slid this left hand into Daenerys’s, intertwining their fingers, and squeezed Rhaenys with his right. They both showed surprise at his lack of embarrassment for a brief instant before returning to their previous expressions.

“Of course not dear aunt, sweet sister…. I was just thinking about how fast things have changed in my life. Not so long ago I rode wherever the coin was, now I have a home, a family.”

At this both slid closer to him, simultaneously leaning their heads to rest on his shoulders and wrapping their arms around his waist, he returned the gesture. 

In all his years traveling through Essos, in all the cities he had explored, he didn’t think he had ever seen a woman so beautiful as his newly found sister or aunt.

Rhaenys was, put simply, gorgeous, dark of skin, darker than his own in fact, with captivating violet eyes and a mane of black hair streaked with silver. She had a full pair of lips, her eyes hooded and her cheekbones high. She was a head shorter than him with a large chest, a thin waist and wide hips. More than once he had thought of how much she resembled the statue of a fertility goddess he had seen during his time in Volantis.

Daenerys was completely different. More petite than her older neice for one, her hair was of a similar length reaching her lower back but unlike Rhaenys hers was completely silver, shining in the afternoon sun. Her skin was the same pale tone as the King’s and she was perhaps an inch shorter than her fellow princess, her eyes were a shade lighter and her lips plump and pink. Breasts not as large and hips narrower she was still inhumanly beautiful, looking like some lost Valyrian goddess herself.

Despite all he had been taught about the Targaryen’s these past weeks and the attention Rhaenys and Daenerys had lavished on him he still felt unsure, worried he was reading too much into their actions. The last thing he wanted was to offend the princesses, as they had quickly become his closest confidants.

The relationship he had with his father was fundamentally different and while he had grown quite close with Aegon as well his brother was often kept busy and he had found himself spending more and more time with his sister and aunt as a result.

“We treasure having you with us little brother,” said Rhaenys, “for the first time in nearly two decades our family is complete.”

Daenerys humed in agreement, “Would you tell us a story of your time in the east?”

He wasn’t surprised by the request, since he had come to the Capital his family had been eager to know of his time across the Narrow Sea. He thought for a long moment before deciding on a tale to tell.

“When I was young the khalasar once traveled to the far east, through the wastes becoming the first of our kind to be welcomed through the walls of an ancient city, Qarth. Our Khal had hoped to reach an agreement with the city rulers, I know not the details, but in the end it was not to be. But while we were in their walls I saw a great deal, the buildings put those in King’s Landing to shame. I saw colors I had never imagined, the people there were rich beyond any other city I have seen. It was a marvel, one day, I hope to return.” he looked then at the women fixed firmly to his side, “Perhaps you would join me? I think Essos would agree with you both.”he asked hopefully.

It was Rhaenys who responded while Daenerys tugged him closer, her long silver hair flowing over his shoulder, “We would love to brother, we both have always wished to travel.”

The adoring look she gave him caused his heart to quicken.

A comfortable silence reigned as he breathed deeply, taking in the gardens around him. They had become a favorite spot of theirs lately. Beyond their beauty, certain areas of the gardens which the princesses favored offered a certain amount of privacy from the lords and ladies eager to engage him that he relished. Of all the recent changes in his life the ass kissing had to be the one he detested most. It was so different from how he had been raised, among the Dothraki if you had a problem you voiced and then acted on it, but here it was all false praise and honeyed words and he often struggled with who was sincere and who wasn’t. 

Despite his family's ties to the kingdom, he found the lords from the Reach to be the most frustrating, their flowery long winded greetings and praises often giving him a headache. Even Loras, whom he had come to respect in a way after their spar, was very exaggerated in his speech.

“Are you excited for the melee Jae?” questioned Daenerys, “We have seen your prowess first hand, I am sure you will do very well.”

“I am.” he replied, a grin coming to his face, “This will be the first time any, save for Ser Loras, in Westeros will have faced a Dothraki in combat. They will be surprised by our ability, I think.”

It was just after sunrise on the second day of the tourney and Jae had elected to have a quiet morning before the coming festivities. The first day had been an interesting affair for him, it was the archery contest and many of the competitors had displayed amazing skill with the bow. The winner ended up being a young man named Anguy, a commoner from the Dornish Marches.

“Will Qhono, Kovarro and Rakharo be participating as well?” asked Rhaenys

“No, the rules of your melee say it is every man for himself to the last one standing. They will not chance having to raise arms against their Khal, even as a game. They will ride in the joust however.”

“I know the Dothraki are famed for their skill on horseback, should you win the joust do you know who you will name your queen dearest brother?”

If possible his sister and aunt siddled even closer, each princess looking at him earnestly. At their treatment Jae felt a flush spread across his face for the first time in years, hoping that his complexion would prevent them from seeing it. 

Queen of Love and Beauty. The concept was unfamiliar to him but his father had explained the tradition well enough. In any tourney the winner of the joust was given a circlet of flowers and would then ‘crown’ his chosen queen, often his intended or a lady they might be attempting to court. His parents' relationship had begun with just such a crowning.

“I...think I know who I would crown, but you both will have to wait and see, just like everyone else.”

For a moment it seemed as though they would protest his answer but in the end settled for pouting at the prince.

“I suppose we will, I am interested to see which maiden has captured my nephew's attention.”

****

The sun shone brightly in the sky as Jae made his way onto the field for the melee. There were just over 50 men competing and he was eager to see how he matched up against them. His Valyrian Steel arakh had been swapped out for a blunted steel version of the same weapon, forged by his father's smith Mott. He had been reluctant to part with the blade but the melee was not the fighting pits, it was not meant to be to the death.

The leathers he wore were sturdy, well made but still light and flexible. The red dragon of House Targaryen was emblazoned upon the chest and shoulders of the pitch black vest. The King had been worried about his son's vulnerability initially, but after witnessing his bout with the Knight of the Flowers he had relented and allowed Jae to don his preferred Dothraki attire.

Shortly after his conversation with Rhaenys and Daenerys had ended he had, accompanied by both of them, made his way down to the tourney grounds. They had been escorted by a company of gold cloaks and made idle chit chat about unimportant things until they reached their destination and were forced to seperate, his aunt and sister heading for the platform erected for the royal family and he for the group of competing lords and knights, though not before they wished him luck in the melee.

He absentmindedly twirled his arakh, observing those around him. Nearly all the fighters were clad in mail or plate armor and wielded a sword, only a handful carried an axe or mace.

Off to the side of the grounds he spied his bloodriders watching the events before them intently. He had explained to them at length the rules of the melee and told them they were not to interfere regardless of how he fared but despite that he was slightly worried they may react poorly if they felt he was threatened.

The stands surrounding the tourney grounds were packed full with the people of King's Landing both high and lowborn in addition to the visiting Lords and Ladies. Nestled in between two of the stands at the center of the field was a raised platform where sat the royal family. 

As he looked up towards them he received a wave from his sister and aunt and a winning grin from his brother. Next to them sat the King and Queen, both of whom sent him warm smiles which he returned. To the Queen’s left sat her brother Oberyn, the Hand of the King who sent the prince a sly grin as he swirled a cup of wine in his right hand. The Hand was often kept busy by his duties but in the limited time they had known one another Jae had found that they got along extremely well, the Red Viper being the only highborn in the city outside of his family to treat him normally. For a brief moment his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

_I hope the master of ceremonies carried out my request._

At that very moment said master stepped forward, speaking in a booming voice that carried to all in attendance.

“Lords, ladies, knights and smallfolk, on this, the second day of the prince’s tourney we gather to witness the best warriors Westeros has to offer compete in a grand test of arms!” The answering cheer was thunderous, “Fight well, fight with honor, and may the best man win!”

All the contestants raised their weapons in answer and let out an answering shout before adopting varying combative stances.

Jaehaerys had purposefully angled himself so his back was facing the field's border, he would not chance an attack from the rear.

A man with a red crab upon his breastplate was his first opponent. The knight lunged forward aiming the point of his sword at Jae’s right hand in an effort to disarm him. He easily parried the move and slashed out at the man's helmed head, putting him on the back foot and creating an opening for a follow up attack. The fight, if it could be called that, lasted for only three more exchanges before the prince disarmed his opponent, hooking the sword's crossguard with the tip of his arakh, wrenching it from the man's grip and flinging it to the dirt.

The man looked momentarily surprised at his quick elimination before walking off the field, muttering a curse under his breath as he left.

Jae smirked and readied his guard again waiting for the next attack.

His second foe presented himself quickly, and this time the prince recognized him. Meryn Trant, a knight from the Stormlands if he remembered correctly. He had only been in the capital for a week but the prince disliked the man, he had a cruel look in his eyes and something about him set Jaehaerys ill at ease.

This time the prince was the first to attack, opening with a strong overhead strike and following it with a slash to the knights left arm. Both were deflected but he had expected as much, he was trying to feel out the man's capabilities.

Trant responded with a swipe at the prince’s head but he easily dodged. As he sidestepped the attack Trant kicked out at the prince’s feet attempting to trip him up and shove him off balance. Jae danced away from the knights feeble attempt and shot him a glare no longer wishing to play games.

He dashed forward and delivered a quick series of blows that sent the man reeling backwards wanting to display his superior skill. Once the man was off balance Jae dealt a powerful blow to Trant's right leg causing him to cry out and stagger to the left, but he did not relent. The knight made to raise his blade but Jae knocked it aside. In a quick maneuver the prince spun, placing himself back to back with his opponent and slammed the pommel of his weapon into the back of Trant’s head sending the man face first into the dirt.

Jae scanned his surrounding for approaching threats, not bothering to look back at the fallen knight.

His next three adversaries proved even less challenging, knights unknown to him the first two of which he disarmed and the third he knocked to the ground after a brief exchange of three blows.

The field had been whittled down considerably by this point with only six fighters left including himself. The prince took a moment to examine his remaining competition, unsurprisingly Loras had made it to this point looking slightly winded but unscathed. Opposite him stood Lord Beric Dondarrion, a Stormlander lord Jae had seen in the training yard several times, he looked more fatigued than the Reacher lord but still stood tall.

The third was a Hightower knight he was unfamiliar with but who was obviously skilled to have lasted this long. His current opponent likewise was unknown to the prince and bore no sigil but he seemed to be matching Hightower well.

Lastly was a Dornish knight by the name of Ser Gerold Dayne, known as the Darkstar. He was several years older than Jaehaerys and the prince knew him to be a skilled warrior but a cruel man. He had apparently decided that the prince would be his next opponent as he took a step towards him before speaking.

“We’ve not met yet young dragon, a shame I shall have to embarrass you in front all to see.” the man wore a smug grin and his dark purple eyes darted towards the raised platform before continuing, “Perhaps I shall take a tumble with another dragon after I crown one, what do you think?”

Jae’s blood surged at the man’s insult to his family but he didn’t allow himself to be distracted. His previous opponents had been dealt with efficiently, almost clinically, he had made no attempt to humiliate them, but Darkstar? For Darkstar he would make an exception.

He locked eyes with the dornishman and then as he readied himself to strike, threw back his head and let loose the shrill ululating warcry of his people. Darkstar looked startled, clearly thrown by the unfamiliar cry. The prince did not give him a chance to recover.

He leapt at the arrogant knight and before his opponent could raise his blade in defense he raked the tip of his arakh across the left side of Darkstar’s face, opening a thin cut along his cheekbone.

The knight lurched back, raising a gloved finger to his cheek and coming away slightly bloodied, his sword now held in a defensive position. The look he shot Jae was venomous, and it was the prince’s turn now to flash a smug smile. The message was clear.

_I could have defeated you, right then and there, but I choose not to._

With a warcry of his own the knight charged at the prince, blade gripped tightly. He could have dodged, but Jae elected to meet him head on instead. They traded a flurry of blows and Jae was mildly surprised to find that Darkstar was managing to match his speed much better than any of his other opponents had.

_He is skilled, very skilled even. But I am better._

They continued their dance of steel amid cheers from the crowd who were enthralled by the display before them. Out of the corner of his eye the prince saw that Loras had bested his adversary and the Hightower knight seemed like he would triumph over his foe as well.

_Time to end this._

Over the last few minutes Jae had noticed that Darkstar had a tendency to overextend himself when he lunged forward or made to stab at the prince, with a small push he’d be able to knock the knight off balance the next time he did so.

It only took a few moments for the knight to try such an attack and he was ready. As the dornishman thrust his blade towards the prince, Jae ducked underneath the strike and gave a slight push. True to his prediction it caused Darkstar to stumble and lose his footing momentarily. That was all he needed.

Stepping into his opponent's space Jae hooked his leg around Darkstar’s and used his momentum to drive the knight's knee to the ground. Forced to kneel the dornish knight was too stunned to retaliate before the prince delivered his final blow. A vicious grin appeared on Jaehaerys’s face as he cocked his arm back and slammed his fist into the side of Darkstar’s face, sending the knight crashing into the dirt. 

The look of disbelief on Darkstar’s face was almost as satisfying as the punch had been. Maintaining eye contact, the prince leveled his blade at his fallen foe, wanting to make sure his words were both heard and understood.

“Among the Dothraki a man’s name offers no protection, only his skill with the blade. Insult me or my family again and I will kill you myself, highborn or not.”

It looked like the knight would respond with a sneer. But as he stared into the prince’s grey eyes he realized that he was deadly serious. He nodded slowly, a mixture of embarrassment and fury in his eyes, before standing and stomping off the field.

Jae turned then, surveying the rest of the field, in the time it took to dispatch Darkstar not only had the Hightower knight won his bout, but he had then been defeated himself by Loras Tyrell. It was now just the two of them left standing, and at the realization the Knight of the Flowers let out an exaggerated sigh.

“I must admit my prince, I had hoped Darkstar would have been able to best you, I liked my chances better against him.” 

The prince grinned at that, his first true grin since the melee had begun.

“It seems I will have to disappoint you my Lord.” laughter echoed around the stands at the prince’s comment, chants of _Jaehaerys_ had been taken up by much of the crowd making it clear who the spectators hoped would win. “Ready Ser Loras?”

Loras gave a slight chuckle at that and hefted his blade, taking a defensive stance, “As ready as I can be my prince, although I fear I already know how this shall end.”

The two young men slowly circled each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. As he had the first time they crossed blades it was Loras who struck first, going for an underhanded slash at the prince’s midsection which Jaehaerys evaded.

Loras had been watching the prince closely, he understood his style and skill better than he had during their first bout and that allowed him to more effectively combat the prince this time around. Unfortunately for the Knight of the Flowers it wasn’t enough to tip the scales, their duel lasted longer this time around, the prince forced to work harder for the win, but ultimately the result ended up being the same.

When Loras’s sword was knocked from his hand the surrounding onlookers exploded into cheers, ecstatic about their prince’s victory. Ser Loras shook his head, a wry grin on his handsome face, and held out his arm which the prince gladly grasped. If possible the crowd grew even louder at the show of good sport, the most distinct shouts however came from his bloodriders as they made their way towards him, praising their Khal for his victory.

“A glorious victory Khal Jhokko, we will celebrate well tonight!” Qhono slung an arm around his shoulder, evidently ready to begin the celebrations right there as he handed Jae a cup of mare’s milk.

Kovarro and Rakharo wore matching grins, both holding their own cups of mare’s milk as they raised them in toast. “Khal Jhokko!”

With a hearty laugh Jae raised his cup as well and drank deeply. “You honor me Qoy Qoyi.”, it might seem strange to some in this land, but he and his bloodriders shared a bond that ran deeper than any oath of loyalty or fealty.

Loras, who was still stood nearby, gave a questioning look. 

“Khal Jhokko?”

Jae gave a slight shrug, “That is the name I was given by the Dothraki.”

Loras looked as though he was about to ask another question but was beaten to it by the booming voice of the master of ceremonies.

“My Lords and Ladies I present to you, your melee victor, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen!”

The answering roar from the crowd was positively deafening. As everyone around him was cheering for him or chanting his name Jae swept his eyes up towards where his family sat. All six people seated on the platform were on their feet clapping and beaming down at him. A feeling he had been experiencing more and more recently suddenly welled up within him. A feeling he had seldom known before returning to Westeros, that of contentment and happiness.

*****

The morning sun had awoken Rhaenys earlier than she had intended to, but instead of leaving her bed she had simply rolled over, called for a servant to request a morning meal and continued to enjoy the comfort of her sheets for a while longer. Eventually however she was forced to leave the comfy confines of her bed when the food was brought to her door. Once she had finished her meal the princess went to her desk to finish a letter she had begun the day prior to her cousin, Arianne.

With the letter complete Rhaenys reached for the book she had been perusing for the last week, _The Horse Lords of Essos, An examination of the Dothraki,_ and began to read where she had left off. A little over an hour later she reckoned that the final event of the tourney would start soon. The princess marked her place then stood and stretched luxuriously as she began dressing and went about her usual morning routine, a small smile adorning her lips as she recalled the previous night. 

After her brothers splendid victory in the melee the King had insisted on hosting a small feast within Maegor’s Holdfast to celebrate. The Starks and Jae’s Dothraki had been invited to join House Targaryen that evening. She had seen a new side of Jae, a more carefree side of the somewhat reserved prince. Neither he nor his Dothraki were drunk, something she had been amazed at given the amount of wine they had imbibed, but they had all been somewhat tipsy. After a bit of prodding her brother had told them more about his time in Essos, nothing too important, mostly little anecdotes about his life with the Dothraki, but she valued the tales nonetheless.

In a turn of events that had surprised none of the Targaryens, her Uncle Oberyn had been getting along famously with both the Dothraki and Jae, and spent much of the night drinking with them and sharing his own tales of Essos.

Rhaenys herself had been slightly into her cups, as were Dany and Aegon, all in all it had been a very enjoyable evening. The Stark children had made for good company and even Viserys’ dower mood couldn’t ruin their fun. The night had come to a close when Jae insisted he and his Dothraki get some rest for the day to come, they had acquiesced, but she and Dany had insisted on walking him to his chambers.

When they reached his door they had both pressed a long kiss to his cheek before bidding him goodnight, leaving her little brother blushing as they sauntered away, giggling to one another. There was just something about Jae that drew them to him, a connection they hadn’t had with a man before, and it didn’t hurt that he was far prettier than he had any right to be.

Her thoughts returning to the present Rhaenys searched her wardrobe for something suitable to wear. Eventually she decided on one of her Dornish dresses, a deep red thing that showed off her impressive breasts without being too revealing, light and airy it was not quite form fitting but still hugged her snuggly.

She completed the look with a pair of golden earrings and matching necklace, giving herself a quick inspection in the mirror before exiting her rooms and making her way down to where the joust was being held.

As she strolled down the familiar corridors her mind began once again to wander to her youngest brother. Today was the final day of the tourney in his honor and he would be taking part in the final event, the joust. Despite his inexperience in such events after witnessing his prowess the day before she genuinely thought he might just win the whole thing.

She smiled to herself, wondering for not the first time who he would crown should he win. After he had gotten settled into his new home and they had come to know him as more than a stranger neither she nor Daenerys had tried to hide their interest in him. The prince may have been a bit oblivious at times but she doubted even he had failed to notice their obvious hints.

What she was less sure of however was whether or not he had gleaned the true nature of the relationship between herself and Dany.

The princess was brought back to the present when she spotted the subject of her thoughts leaning against the railing of the hallway, looking out over the castle’s courtyard. She was dressed in a light blue gown that flowed around her, showing off the princesses beautiful figure. Her back was turned and she clearly hadn’t noticed the presence of her niece yet.

_This is too good an opportunity to pass up._

Quiet as a cat, Rhaenys tiptoed towards her aunt until she was directly behind her. In a flash she had her arms around Daenerys’s waist, pulling the princess flush against her and whispered seductively in her ear.

“My sweet sweet aunt, what ever are you doing out here all alone hmm?” Dany relaxed when she heard her voice, but the princess was still cross at her niece's antics.

“Gods Rhae, you scared the life out of me! I was about to yell for the guards before I realized it was you!”

Rhaenys released a breathy laugh before placing a kiss along her aunt's exposed neck.

“Forgive me Dany I simply couldn’t resist, you look beautiful by the way.” at this her hands began to move slowly upwards, only to be slapped away by Daenerys who turned in her arms, an amused gleam in her eyes.

“Now is hardly the time for that niece.” Rhaenys pouted at her response, which only served to put a smirk on the silver haired princesses face. “Perhaps later.”

Removing herself from the embrace Daenerys quickly smoothed out the creases in her dress before continuing. 

“I assume you are heading down to the lists as well?” Rhaenys nodded, “Good, you shall escort me there.” said Daenerys with a barely perceptible smirk.

Rhaenys had to fight back her own as she fell into place beside her aunt. Despite being the younger of the pair Dany had always been able to order her around when she wished, something that never failed to both amuse and baffle the older princess.

_Oh well, I have long since accepted it._

“Have you seen either of them this morning?” she asked, referring to her brothers.

Dany shook her head, “No but I heard from Ser Arthur that they both left the keep earlier to ready themselves for the joust. It should be beginning soon, it’s almost midday”

A thought occurred to Rhaenys then, “He's going to be properly outfitted isn’t he? Jae I mean, I know he prefers his Dothraki clothing but surely father wouldn’t let him ride in just his leathers.”

Daenerys grinned as they reached the royal stables where an escort of guards were preparing their horses. “I asked Ser Arthur the same thing, he told me that Rhaegar had indeed insisted on Jae being fitted with a proper set of armor. Though it would seem that our dear prince was less than pleased that he would have to wear such a thing in the joust.”

Rhaenys chuckled, on more than one occasion her brother had expressed his dislike of the _steel dresses_ that the knights of Westeros wore into battle.

“What about Egg? I know he will be wearing the finest armor Mott could make for him, but how do you think he will fare in the joust?” she inquired as they seated themselves on their mounts and began the ride to the tourney grounds. She already had her own opinion but she wished to hear Dany’s

Dany raised an eyebrow, “Egg is fine enough with a sword and good on horseback, but we both know he isn’t exactly the greatest warrior in the Kingdoms.”

Rhaenys nodded in agreement. She loved her brother dearly but fighting and matters of combat weren't his greatest strengths.

“Did you hear about Tyrion Lannister? Apparently after seeing Jae in the melee he placed a rather large bet on him to win the joust, said he’d wager a thousand gold dragons that the prince would knock anyone in the lists off their horse.”

She had not heard that as it happened. Rhaenys had only met the Dwarf of Casterly Rock a few times but he was a pleasant enough man and he had a wicked sense of humor that she enjoyed despite what people liked to say about him. He was also the only Lannister she could stand, the Old Lion hadn’t come to the Capital since she was a girl and Cersei Lannister was perhaps her least favorite person in the world. 

The last time she and her Baratheon brood had come to King’s Landing the princess had wanted to throttle the snide blonde and her insufferable son after only a day. How a man like Stannis Baratheon could let his son and heir become such an arrogant pampered little shit she would never know.

“Where did you hear this.” she inquired, Dany always seemed to be one of the first to hear about court gossip.

“Ser Jamie” she answered, “He was with Ser Arthur when I spoke with him this morning.”

Of course, because he had always been around Rhaenys rarely thought of Jamie as a Lannister, he had always just been Ser Jamie, Knight of the Kingsgaurd to her.

“I should have known.” she replied with a laugh, “He’s one of the few who doesn’t treat Lord Tyrion like some little monster.”

“I wish people weren’t so harsh to him, he’s a smart man, I think he’d make quite a good lord.”

Rhaenys hummed in agreement with her aunt. Dany had always had a soft spot for the downtrodden.

The rest of the ride to the tourney grounds was uneventful, the princesses content to trade jokes and speculate about the outcome of the joust.

When they arrived at the grounds they dismounted and quickly made their way to the platform built for the royal family. She was unsurprised to find that they were the last to appear, her father would have insisted on getting here early with his wife and Uncle Oberyn was never one to miss out on festivities of any kind. What was surprising was finding a bored looking Viserys already present as well, seated slightly further from the rest of the family.

“Rhaenys, Daenerys you both look stunning!” greeted her mother with a beaming smile.

“My sister speaks true, I imagine more than a few lordlings and knights will seek to crown one of you their queen, perhaps even a prince or two.” added Oberyn’s wily voice.

“Indeed.” said the King with a warm smile, “Any man would be lucky to win your favors.”

“Thank you!” replied Dany as they took their seats, “You all look marvelous as well.”

Rhaenys on the other hand gave a small scoff at her uncle's comment, “I think it will take more than winning a joust for any of these uppity knight’s we’ve never met to win either of our affections.”

Everyone laughed at her jest, Oberyn loudest of all.

“Haha, that’s my niece, a dornishwoman to the core! Make them work for it, a princess is no small prize to be won in some tourney.” he reached for the carafe of wine and two cups on the table next to him, “Would you care for a glass? It is quite good, a Dornish vintage.”

“We would.” replied Daenerys, accepting her own cup and handing the other to her.

As she sipped her wine Rhaenys felt a pair of eyes on her and turned to the left to find Viserys staring at her intently.

“Your mother did you a disservice, Rhaenys.” he said with a smarmy grin, “You look positively ravishing my niece. As do you _sweet sister, a_ true Valyrian beauty.”

Only the princesses could hear him as he continued. “You spoke well, the blood of the dragon should not be sullied by outsiders, only a prince of the blood should be allowed to claim you.”

Rhaenys was a moment away from slapping the lecherous grin off his face when she felt a hand grip her arm.

“It is a shame then that you could not be bothered to enter the tourney Viserys.” snapped Dany in a cold voice, “You shan’t get the chance to _claim_ anything.”

Rhaenys didn’t bother to hide her snort of laughter. The look Viserys gave them was seething but the pair brushed it off without a care. Over the years her uncle had made no attempt to hide his lust for both of them, but to say neither of them returned the sentiment would have been a massive understatement. They had once joked that they would rather lay with a man with greyscale than touch Viserys.

As she shifted her attention to the field before her, she took in all the colors and decorations, the banners bearing the sigils of dozens of houses, all gathered to celebrate her brother's return. On either side of the lists she could see numerous men in various sets of armor milling around in preparation for the joust to begin, but she couldn’t spot either of her brothers among them.

_They must be in one of the tents, waiting to be called._

The royal family chatted amongst themselves for the next several minutes until a horn sounded, silencing the anxious crowd as the master of ceremonies stepped onto the field.

“We have come to the final event of the tourney! The joust to decide who will be named champion, ride well and as always may the best man win!”

They all clapped in approval as those in the stands erupted into cheers of excitement.

“In the first match Lord Horas Redwyne of the Arbor shall ride against Lothor Brune of Brownhollow!” 

Her attention was fixed on the joust now, no longer bothering to keep up with the conversation around her. Lord Horas hefted his lance as he prepared for the charge, the shield with his house sigil, a cluster of grapes on a blue field, gripped tightly in his other hand. Across the lists Lothor Brune likewise had a shield adorned with his house sigil on it, a brown bear paw on a white field.

The master of ceremonies paused, checked that both men were ready, then he waved his flag and they were off. The men raced at each other, lance’s ready, when Lord Horas’s horse stumbled for the briefest moment, the lord righted himself but in his distraction thrust his lance a moment too early, completely missing his opponent. Lothor seized the opportunity, striking directly at the man's chest, sending him flying backwards off his horse, winning his match in a single tilt.

The crowd roared in approval, clamoring excitedly for the next match. And so it went, tilt after tilt as the number of riders slowly dwindled. Lothor was unseated by Robar Royce who himself later fell to Loras Tyrell. Loras put in a good showing, unseating his first four opponents.

Her interest waned somewhat but was restored when Aegon took the field. The attendees had howled in support of their prince in his tilt against Jory Cassel, whom, after three tilts he did manage to unseat. Unfortunately he was then defeated by Ser Loras in two passes, much to the crowds dismay, but he handled it graciously, grinning and shaking the knights hand before walking off the pitch.

Next was Qhono facing Hobber Redwyne. This one she also paid close attention too, she assumed it would give her an idea of how Jae would ride. The Dothraki was truly something to see on horseback, despite this being his first joust the man still managed to unhorse the Redwyne Lord in two passes.

Likewise Kovarro and Rakharo also did well, each besting two opponents before being felled themselves. They took it in stride however, Jae had explained to her and Daenerys beforehand that while to be bested in combat was a shame to Dothraki, something like a joust was little more than a game to them, not something to be taken seriously. 

It was after Kovarro was eliminated that Jae finally took to the field, and the cheer that greeted him was unmatched by any previous one. Her eyes widened when she beheld him and to her right she heard a hitch in Dany’s breath.

_I wholeheartedly agree._

His hair was pulled back in its usual long braid, but the armor he wore was a far cry from anything she had seen him wear before. The plate armor was tightly fitted to him for maximum flexibility. It was black steel engraved to look like scales with a large red dragon coiled on the chest. The shoulders were similarly designed with a red dragon's head on each, fangs on display.

_He looks gorgeous in that armor. Like a dark, dashing prince._

He was to face Meryn Trant for his first match and he carried himself with confidence as he mounted his dark steed and donned his black helm, also decorated with a red dragon on its crest. Gripping his lance and readying his shield he waited for the flag. The moment it was off he tore down the lists at a speed that astonished her. Ser Meryn thrust his lance at the right moment, but Jae shifted ever so slightly to the side, causing the blow to miss and retaliated with a vicious thrust of his own which struck the man cleanly between the shoulders and sent him flying off his steed.

The crowd thundered in approval as the royal family leapt to their feet, applauding and cheering for the prince. Daenerys turned to her then.

“That was incredible! It’s as though he and his Dothraki were born on the backs of their horses.”

She nodded enthusiastically in agreement, still clapping for her brother.

The joust continued apace, Jae winning his next two matches and the number of riders becoming smaller and smaller until they were down to the final four. Prince Jaehaerys would face Ser Barristan Selmy and Sandor Clegane would ride against Ser Jamie Lannister.

Ser Jamie and Ser Sandor put on a great contest, making it six passes before Ser Jamie was finally unseated by the Hound. Jae and Ser Barristan also gave a good showing, going four tilts before Jae managed to unhorse the elder knight.

This was it, the final joust, the crowd was frenzied at this point and the royal family was almost equally excited at this point, herself and Dany reaching for each other's hands as they two men prepared for the next tilt.

“Come on boy, don’t fuck me, I've far to much coin riding on you right now.”

The princess turned at hearing Oberyn’s voice, he was leaned forward in his seat, eyes fixed firmly on the prince, then quickly returned her gaze to the same man.

The flag waved, the horses raced toward each other, the Hound’s horse ran a steady stride, lance gripped firmly in his hand. He waited for the perfect moment as the prince approached him, then thrust, Rhaenys gasped.

_He’s going to hit him!_

And then, in a move that stunned every person watching, Jaehaerys _slid_ along the side of his horse until he looked as though he was hanging off its side using only his legs. The Hound’s strike missed completely and Jae seized his moment, slamming the lance’s point directly into Clegane’s armored stomach. The knight was sent careening off his horse by the blow and fell to the dirt.

Silence. No one spoke. Then an almighty cry rose from the crowd in celebration of the prince’s victory. Jaehaerys remained atop his horse, removing his helmet and smiled at the cheering crowd, and gave them a wave.

When the noise died down slightly the chant could be heard. _**Crown your Queen! Crown your Queen!**_

However when the master of ceremonies presented the prince with his prize a murmur of confusion spread across the stands.

There, upon the embroidered cushion being presented to the prince sat not one, but two crowns of rose. Jae took the offered pillow and slowly rode his horse towards the platform where House Targaryen sat. 

He finally reached them, expression neutral, but when their eyes met, she knew. And judging from the almost inaudible gasp to her right, so did Daenerys. He held out his hand and spoke.

“For you, Rhaenys and Daenerys Targaryen, Queens of Love and Beauty.” his neutral expression broke, and was replaced by a roguish grin.

They took their respective crown’s simultaneously and placed them on their heads. She tried to look passive but failed, returning his smile, her eyes swirling with passion and she knew without looking that Dany had done the exact same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have it, the tourney and we've met the Starks! How many of you saw the two queens twist coming? I modeled the tourney after the actual Tourney of the Hand so that's why the contestants are very similar. I'm planning on naming Jae's arakh, I have a few ideas but I'd love some suggestions, comments are very much appreciated! Also in case you haven't seen this picture before this is what Jae's tourney armor looked like https://www.pinterest.com/pin/399764904409663460/


	4. Update

Alright so the consensus seems to be pretty clear! Rating will be be changed to E, smut and gratuitous violence awaits! Thanks to everyone for commenting I really appreciated the feedback, next chapter should be up within a week or so but until then this notice is gonna remain up. See you soon :)


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